Dragon Age: Wrath of Betrayal (Closed for jack80)

[Twlightdreamer]

“All you have to do is say yes, is that so hard? Say yes and I can give you the power to be free of these Templar fools. We could teach them a lesson, you and I.” The Desire demon purrs out, her words sweet as honey as she floats a slow circle around the mage. Though the little human shut her eyes upon first sight, she knows full well Beryl can’t block out all of her senses.

“No.” Beryl clips out curtly. She balls her hands into fists at her side, standing straight. It has always been easier for her to confront this particular demon with her eyes shut. Otherwise, the monster is far to distracting. But the young mage can’t block out the velvety sound of its voice and its scent as it slowly circles her. The way it wraps around her and causes things low in her body to warm. She . . . no, it. It smells of sex, sunshine, sweat, and there was something darker, something closer to the scent of sulfur hidden beneath it all.

“My lovely, sweet Beryl, if you don’t say yes they’ll take you right back to the Tower directly into his ‘loving’ embrace . . . ” The Desire demon says while eyeing the mage from the back. The tremor of fear and revulsion easy to spy as it curls the mage’s shoulders. She licks her full lips, the air tastes of fear and hatred. It didn’t hurt that she knew this mage’s past from watching her closely. Leaning close to Beryl’s back, the demon hovers a mere inch from her ear. “Mmm. Yes, your desire to be rid of that man is strong. I can help you with that. Imagine him suffering as you did, as all the other mages have . . . ” Her voice flowed against the mage’s ear.

“My answer is still . . . no.” The young woman’s voice is softer this time, but still strong. Though her body trembles and her heart pounds in her throat, she resists this sweet temptation.

“There will come a time when you say yes. Everyone says yes, eventually. Until then, my pet, enjoy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain.

Beryl’s first conscious thought as she wakes from the dream is of the pain radiating throughout her body.

Breathing hurts. Pounding in my temples. Everything hurts, hard to think. Ringing in her ears. Something smells bad, very bad . . .

The Templars had beaten her. That has to be why she’s hurting, right? She must have said something wrong. Maybe she gained too much mana and been hit with a smite spell, again. But why then did she end up in the Fade?

It’s hard to think . . . Too damn hard. Damnation. A head injury?

A dire need to see what her predicament is compels her to force her eyes open. Big mistake. With her eyes open, the throbbing in her head worsens and the steady pound quickly changes into a more piercing pain. The pain stabs behind her eyes and radiates backward toward the base of her skull. She rests on her side, almost in the fetal position with her head resting on a large root. A tug at her wrists lets her know she is still bound- the rope interwoven around her wrists and fingers in an attempt to keep spell casting at a minimum.

The campfire flares in front of her. The dance of flames intensifies the pain in her head to the point of almost being unbearable. Her eyelids half close as she shifts her head. The small movement helps to widen her range of vision. Beryl scans the small dirt clearing the Templars had been playing Wicked Grace and spies one of the heavily armored beasts laying face down.

Odd.

Something flashes silver to the far side of the camp and catches her attention. A Templar runs past the fire with his shield and sword brandished. His mouth is open in a battle cry, but she can’t make out what it is- the ringing in her ears is too loud. In a blink of her eyes, a smaller green... thing appears from no where behind the knight- it shoves a wicked looking dagger underneath the Templar’s back plate, twisting. The knight falls without a fight, like a puppet who’s strings have been cut.

The green thing. The monster. The... What is the word? Too damn hard to think . . . Darkspawn. That’s the word! Short in stature so it must be a Grenlock.

The Grenlock Rogue kicks its prey before raising its oblong shaped head up to survey the camp. Beryl holds very still, hoping like all small prey does, that she will be passed over. The black eyes of the creature find her after a long moment. Pure terror floods her system as her green eyes stare into the creature’s and find nothing human in their depths. Its gait is half walk, half shuffle as it moves towards her. Its overly large mouth dripping with saliva.

Evil. This creature is evil incarnate. Even through her addled senses, she can feel the darkness radiating off of it. Another step closer and she can smell it. It reeks of death, decay, and blood. Bile rises in her throat and her vision starts to blur with the attempt to keep her stomach contents in place. Beryl’s head feels as if it’s about to split apart with pain.

Run. I need to run.

Though her mind and body may know what to do, doing it is a completely different story.

The creature starts to reach a twisted, blood covered hand towards her face.

“Help...” She whispers, knowing no one will hear her save the Maker if he would hear the prayers of a mage.

 

[jack80]

*Years later....*

A silver and green armored tall man walks though the forest's underbrush. He stops as he takes in his surroundings. Rustling from the bushes behind him, and an eagle headed, giant creature with red and gold feathered wings walks up behind him. It nudges the man as he stands there. The man pets the griffon on its head. "Wait here." He says as he takes a few steps forward.

He kneels on the ground, something shiny catching his eyes. A necklace. A gold necklace of the Chantry. One of his former brothers must have been wearing it all those years ago. Which one, he could not remember. It had been years since the day that changed everything. Since she came into his life and changed everything.

For a time he had hated her for it. But he had come to welcome the changes that had come. He was no longer a Templar, no longer a man of the Faith. He was a Grey Warden now. The man sighed. His thoughts going back to that night.

***​

Kendrick Talwone, Champion of the Chantry, Guardian of the Faith patrolled the outskirts of the campsite, as a Loyal Son of the Maker should. He did not care for how his brothers and their commander treated the mage. Yes She had run, but that because she just didn't know any better. These cursed Mages, they always ran, fearing the comforting hand of the Light.

It was for their own protection. And while he was a good son, always obeying the word of the Divine, he did in some ways pity the mages. It was because of their connection to the Fade that they had to be protected. That and too many shifted over to blood-magic. Vile, disgusting and evil practice.

He paused in mid step as he heard something. His silver armor shining in the star light, so far from the camp fire. He looked around. Something wasn't right...

And then out of the brush charged two large Hurlocks, Darkspawn, Tainted spawn of the broodmothers! With a great cry of warning for his brothers, he prepared himself as the two tall muscular creatures came at him. He saw other genlocks, darkspawn, rushing towards the camp, but these two Hurlocks were his to deal with. His brother Templars would have to deal with the others. He only hopped as he raised his shield blocking the incoming axe from the towering brutes before him that his warning cry came in time.

How did they get so close!? He couldn't tell, but they must be here for the Mage. Damnit! He swung with his sword, a lucky attack with his blade cutting the arm of the scared pitted creature before him off at the elbow. He was quite skilled, his former mentor one of the best swordsmen in the whole of the Templar Order. At least before he left... abandoning him and the Light.

Kendrick only had a moments time before he think as the beast back-handed him, sending him flying though the air. The other hurlock rushing him. With a twist and spin of his feet and legs and brought the beast down, and stuck it though with his sword. Ending it quickly. The blessing of Andraste was with him this night! Getting up, he saw the armless hurlock before him had picked up its axe and was glaring at him.

"Come on, foul beast!" Kendrick said as he prepared for another attack. The two traded blow after blow, this one much stronger then the other even with one arm. But years of devote training prevailed. A quick cut of its neck as he got behind the beast with a shield bash, and it was down.

He had little time to think as he rushed to the camp, seeing a brother fall to a genlock's blade. His eyes scanning as he saw another laying face first in the ground, and the mage, cowing near the fire. The commander was no where to be seen, but that was of little concern to Kendrick. He needed to act, and act quickly. She might be a mage, but she was under his care as far as he was concern. He would bring her back to the Chantry if it was the last thing he would do!

He stabbed the smaller unholy thing in the back, twisting his sword and ending it before it could do anything else over the Mage. Reaching down he pulled the mage up by her bonded hands. "Follow me!" He told her in a commanding tone as he pulled her by a rope to her bindings away. "Quickly now! Move it Mage!"

They made it some distance before running into his Commander, and a host of genlock and an alpha Hurlock in a deadly fight. It did not look good. The darkspawn had noticed them.